


obedience

by towokuwusatsuwu



Category: HiGH&LOW: the Story of S.W.O.R.D. (TV)
Genre: Agender Character, BDSM, Cunnilingus, Dom/sub, Established Relationship, Multiple Orgasms, Oral Sex, Orgasm Delay/Denial, Other, Rough Sex, Sex Toys, Trans Male Character, Vibrators
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-26
Updated: 2018-06-26
Packaged: 2019-05-29 03:13:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,012
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15063797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/towokuwusatsuwu/pseuds/towokuwusatsuwu
Summary: kirinji might have wished to end up in this position with nikaido, but there's a marked difference between fantasy and reality, the strain of pleasing the superior he adores coupled with the euphoria of doing so. not that kirinji would have it any other way.he might just get good at this some day.





	obedience

Kirinji doesn’t know why he agrees to do this over and over again.

The top of the table is polished to a high shine so that he can see his reflection in it vaguely, his face twisted as he struggles to breathe around the way his muscles tense continuously, his body straining for a release he knows he can’t have because he hasn’t been granted it.

He screws his face up, struggling to concentrate, struggling just to breathe at his point.

At the head of the table, Nikaido drums their fingers on the table. “You’re doing surprisingly well.”

He wants to laugh at that, at the quiet insult in those words, because Nikaido never expects him to do well in anything and maybe that’s fair. When his plan to bring Daruma Ikka into the Iemura Group had failed and he’d cowered away from being beaten down like Noboru did, when his desire to just beat the S.W.O.R.D. into submission had been constantly stomped upon with the explicit warnings that it would never work— Maybe it’s fair to insult him like that. Even though they’re not doing anything even close to work right now, even when Kirinji is braced on his knees and his elbows, the insides of his thighs slick and shiny from the strain.

He hates that Nikaido can do this to him without touching him beyond initially positioning him how they wanted to look at him. Like Kirinji is nothing but a pretty centerpiece on this table, just here for their gazing pleasure and no other reason, like he isn’t even a person anymore.

His mouth twists at the thought and he yelps when the plug in his ass vibrates harder and faster, as if knowing his mind is wandering, jerking him back into the here and the now and this struggle.

Nikaido chuckles at him. “Almost enough to make me regret not approaching you earlier.”

It had been Kirinji’s idea initially, but he hadn’t offered himself up for this to begin with. It had been about atonement, about not pissing off his bosses and prostrating himself appropriately— privately— for them to do with what they wanted so they didn’t kill him down the line. Nikaido had been the one to suggest this, and at the time, it had seemed easier than taking a punch.

Kirinji isn’t sure he believes that anymore. Fingers twisted into fists, sweat rolling down his face and gathering in the bends of his knees, making the surface of the table beneath him slick, his entire body screaming to be touched even as it coils tighter and tighter… This is hell.

“Stay right there.” Nikaido sets the remote they’ve been using to control the vibrations back down on the table— without turning the setting down— and stands. “I want to see how you look.”

The words should terrify him. They would have even a few weeks ago, of course, because Kirinji is always a little afraid of Nikaido, afraid of their power and their reach and in awe of what they can do if they should so desire to do it. Iemura in general is awe-inspiring, but Nikaido on their own is something else. There’s something in the way they walks around the table, Kirinji tracking them with his eyes, their hand coming to rest in the small of Kirinji’s back, the other coming down so hard on his ass he can’t hold back a whimper… Nikaido is someone else, something else entirely, and Kirinji both loves and hates the draw he has toward this person.

“Your face makes this seem like a very unpleasant experience for you,” Nikaido muses, and Kirinji swallows hard. “But you’re soaking wet. You’re about to drip all over my table.”

Kirinji bites down on his tongue, his face flushing hotly, and he barely restrains the urge to wriggle his hips because he wants Nikaido to touch him more than he wants to breathe.

“You act like you’re suffering.” Nikaido’s smirk is evident in their words. “But you’re enjoying it.”

How could he ever explain that he can enjoy suffering if it’s at this person’s hands?

The hand in the small of his back presses down and Kirinji shifts, his back arching, his ass up in the air and he bites down harder on his tongue to hold back a curse. Mouthing off only gets him in more trouble; he’s gone to bed with nothing to show for it but a sore ass enough times to know.

“I’m surprised you haven’t broken down begging by this point. Thirty-five minutes has to be a new record for you.” Nikaido’s hand drifts away from his back down the curve of his ass and Kirinji drops his cheek down on the table, swallowing a sob of relief. Even if it’s just this, it’s better than nothing, and he’s so grateful. “I’m suitably impressed this time.”

The words make him smile even though they shouldn’t. Nothing about this should be pleasant or comforting considering his situation, spread out on Nikaido’s table with a vibrator in his ass, needing to be touched, to be fucked so hard he can’t see straight anymore or else this strain in his body will never ease, he’s sure of it. He should hate himself for how he warms to any little bit of praise from this person, and even if he likes being told he’s doing a good job within the group, it’s not the same as this. And he should hate it, and hate himself, and he doesn’t.

Kirinji never thought of himself as being particularly submissive. He bites his tongue more often than not within the group because he always gets told no, and he has to back down because doing anything other than that would get him killed, or beaten into a bloody pulp, and he has no desire for any of that. He never thought he would enjoy letting someone push him around.

“I wonder what you’d do if the others could see you like this.” Nikaido’s hands move away and Kirinji bites down hard enough on his tongue to taste blood to keep himself from whining after him, his entire body jolting when Nikaido’s hand comes down on his ass again, jostling the plug inside of him. “I could call them over to see. I’m sure they’d be impressed with this.”

Kirinji takes a shuddering breath so he can properly answer. “You can do as you like, Sir.”

“You’ve also suitably improved your manners. Enough punishment will do that.” Nikaido smacks him again and this time Kirinji moans, loud and open and unashamed. “And you enjoy that, too.”

Another breath that’s harder to take in than it should have any right to be. “Yes, Sir.”

Strong, capable fingers twist the plug inside of him and Kirinji sees white momentarily, white-knuckling the table as best he can to stop himself from achieving orgasm. It’s difficult at best and he can’t even press his thighs together to muffle any sensation, spread-wide like this for Nikaido’s pleasure. But he has to. He knows what happens if he fails Nikaido.

“This is pitiful.” Nikaido’s hand moves between his legs and Kirinji squeezes his eyes shut as callused fingers trace the edge of his labia. “You’re going to leave a puddle at this rate.”

Kirinji swallows but says nothing, pressing his red hot cheek against the table in admission.

There’s no warning before two fingers wedge themselves inside of him, stretching him open with ease. He’s so wet that Nikaido doesn’t even have to try, and even if he wasn’t he’s always so desperate and ready for Nikaido to touch him that he can’t imagine his body putting up much of a struggle either way. It’s also exactly what he wants, Nikaido touching him like this, fingers sinking in to the second knuckle and wringing a grateful wheeze out of him.

“Pathetic.” Nikaido pulls their fingers free and reaches around, wiping them clean on Kirinji’s cheek. “We’re going to try something else now. I hope you’ve gotten used to the plug.”

Kirinji hasn’t, truth be told, for the vibrations to still be affecting him as badly as they are. But he bites down hard on that thought and simply nods, listening to Nikaido moving things around behind him even as the sticky wetness on his cheek leaves a cool patch on his cheek.

Something blunt presses in next and Kirinji winces at how much wider it stretches him than fingers, but he bears it for Nikaido. He can tell that Nikaido is still holding it even after they’ve gotten it as deep as they seemingly want it, deep enough that Kirinji can feel it touching him everywhere.

“That’s forty-five minutes now,” Nikaido says. “If you can make it fifteen more, I’ll fuck you.”

“Sir?” Kirinji squeaks out, trying not to writhe as much as he wants to when Nikaido twists the toy inside of him, but it feels so unfairly good when he’s needed something like this.

“I always keep my word to you, don’t I, pet?” The name should grate along his nerves, raise the hairs on the back of his neck, but instead Kirinji has to fight to keep his hard front up instead of softening under Nikaido’s hand. “Brace yourself. This one is very powerful.”

He should know exactly what Nikaido means by that but that doesn’t stop him from crying out when he hears the faint switch and the vibrations start up inside of him. They are powerful, far more powerful than the plug, enough to drown that out almost entirely. He’s so raw and swollen and sensitive from being on the edge for so long that this almost undoes him completely.

Almost is the operative word. Kirinji has learned to control his body far more than ever before and he bears the incredible pleasure that becomes borderline painful the longer he makes his body wait. The sloppy wet sounds when Nikaido move the toy make him flush, indignant.

“I’m impressed.” Nikaido’s voice is almost a purr in his ear and he whines. “You’re doing well.”

Impressing someone has never meant nearly so much to him and Kirinji pants harshly, digging his fingers into the top of the table even as his gut clenches almost violently. He needs to come but he can’t, he won’t, because he wants that prize more than he needs relief.

Nikaido hums, bracing a hand on his hip. “You know what I like the most about this?” they ask, and Kirinji wails when the vibrations go up impossibly higher, throbbing inside of him so much he feels tears overflow down his cheeks before he can stop them. “The highest setting is fantastic.”

The highest setting tips the scale from borderline painful to nearly too much for Kirinji to handle in any shape or form, but he fights back against his own body with everything in him. His clit throbs with every single vibration and he can taste how incredible an orgasm would be with this toy nestled so deep inside of him but he can’t, he won’t, so he screams around the pleasure and shakes his head so hard it thumps against the table beneath him. The tears come faster and harder the more he fights back and drool drips from his lips, puddling on the table.

Fifteen minutes passees by impossibly slowly but by the time Nikaido shuts the toy off and pulls it free from him— not without a fight, because his vagina clamps down hard and almost refuses to let it go— Kirinji is nearly to the point of wailing. His entire body shakes, his muscles exhausted, and when Nikaido runs a hand down his back, he almost flinches away from it.

“Good job,” Nikaido tells him, removing the plug as well. “Take a minute to breathe for me, pet.”

Kirinji quiets down to whimpers eventually, and when Nikaido pats him twice on the ass he pushes himself up on shaking arms, shifting his legs back beneath him so he’s sitting on the table, hunched over, wrapping his arms around himself in an effort to collect himself. It’s hard, though, because all he wants to do is curl up in a little ball and stay that way for as long as possible. And that’s without his body still begging for orgasm, needing that sweet release.

Nikaido sits back down in their chair, then pats their lap. “Come here, I’ll hold you.”   


Of course, Kirinji scrambles off of the table and stumbles over to them, almost tripping over his own feet in the process. Nikaido catches him by the arm and pulls Kirinji smoothly onto their lap, brushing his hair back out of his face, murmuring soothing words to him as he settles into the familiar, strong arms that he has no right to be this comfortable wrapped up in.

He’s lucky that Nikaido is willing to do this for him, he knows that much, because Nikaido has never shown so much as a shred of tenderness in all of the time Kirinji has known them and so this has to be alien for them. But he tucks his face— wet from tears and sweat— against Nikaido’s neck and lets himself be held and comforter, wraps his arms around Nikaido’s shoulders and clings to them because he needs an anchor to this world.

Because he knows Nikaido he knows what it means when they shift beneath Kirinji, lifting him up onto the table, this time letting him lay on his back, his legs dangling off of the table. Instantly, he spreads them so Nikaido can come to stand between them, his heart hammering against his ribs, his tongue smoothing over his dry lips as he watches Nikaido’s hands drift downward.

As always, Nikaido is well dressed, and Kirinji flushes furiously when he sees the wet spot on the crotch of their pants, knowing full well he must have left it there when he was sitting on Nikaido’s lap. He watches as Nikaido unbuckles their belt and unfastens their pants with smooth, easy movements before pulling their cock out, the firmness such that they were able to tuck it, and the harness, into their pants without it showing unnaturally from the outside.

“You want to come so bad, I can see it,” they say, voice low and leisurely as they brush the head of their cock down Kirinji’s slit, the promise of them so close and yet so far. “You’ll get your desire this time because you were good for me. Don’t make a habit out of disobeying at every chance you get and you’ll get rewarded for your good behavior every time.”

“Yes, Sir.” He wants to snap at that comment, wants to talk back, to point out that Nikaido doesn’t always make it easy for him to do what he’s told, but he bites down on that hard.

There’s a flicker in Nikaido’s eye at his words, as if they can sense what Kirinji refuses to say, before bracing a hand on Kirinji’s hip, no doubt to keep him firmly in place. “Good boy. You can come as many times as you wish, but I expect you to take everything I give you.”

That one is easy. Kirinji nods, lifting his hips in offering. “Give me everything you have for me.”

Kirinji has almost been trained to take Nikaido’s cock so it sinks inside of him in one smooth, fluid thrust that leaves him gasping, his toes curling at the sensation of being stretched wider than the toy already did. The only person who’s been allowed to fuck him lately is standing in front of him now, a smug little smile on their face as their hips brush against the back of Kirinji’s thighs and there’s no more left of him to thrust inside.

They pull out slowly enough only to thrust back in so hard the table creaks in protest and Kirinji groans, throwing his head back against the wood so hard it hurts. And he doesn’t care, because Nikaido is buried in him to the hilt and all he wants to do is lay back and experience all of it.

Nikaido is as ruthless at sex as they are in all walks of life as far as Kirinji can tell. They eventually have both hands on Kirinji’s hips, fucking him so hard the table creaks and groans, so hard that Kirinji’s eyes roll back in his head and his body shakes in orgasm after orgasm.

It almost hurts, coming for them and around them like this, tears rolling from the corners of his eyes to the table top beneath, but Kirinji just lets his eyes fall closed and takes it all in.

The overstimulation almost hurts, his vulva swollen and sensitized from the vibrations, his vagina clamping down hard over and over again so that every thrust rubs him so hard inside he writhes and cries out with the force of it. But Nikaido never backs down, only tightens their grip on Kirinji’s hips and rocks faster and more furiously inside of him. When they tire, finally satisfied, Kirinji shivers and falls limp against the table, unable to do anything other than lie there.

“A good effort,” Nikaido says, patting him on the knee. “I counted eleven orgasms in total.”

Kirinji is too limp and tired to move, so he watches as Nikaido walks around the room, setting all of the furniture right, taking the toys away to… Kirinji isn’t sure where. When they come back, they just pick Kirinji up and carries him upstairs with more ease than they should have access to. Kirinji makes an appreciative sound when he’s set in a bathtub of hot water, letting the heat soothe his muscles as he watches Nikaido perch on the edge of the tub, the tips of their fingers trailing through the water for a moment, creating little ripples beneath their fingertips.

“We’ll try improving on that time next scene, I believe,” they say, flicking the water droplets off of their fingers, flicking Kirinji with them in the process. “I want you to rest for a moment before cleaning up and then we’ll see about getting you something to drink and a snack before bed. The last thing I want is for your body shutting down on me.”

“Yes, Sir.” Kirinji settles back in the water, his head resting against the porcelain behind him, and he watches Nikaido watch him, offering them no challenge in his gaze. He’s warm and tired and pliant right now; what he’d like are some head pets but he doesn’t want to ask for them. Instead, he just closes his eyes, doing his best to rest as he was told.

He’s startled when Nikaido’s hand settles on top of his head, stroking his scalp in slow and soothing motions that makes his stomach tighten. “You did a good job, pet,” Nikaido says before Kirinji can hear them standing, walking away from the tub. Part of him wants to open his eyes and watch them leave, wait eagerly for them to return, but he’s too tired. He might just fall asleep like this even though he knows he needs food and water in his system before sleeping.

When the door closes, Kirinji lifts a wet hand out of the tub and runs it through his hair, fingers tracing the places where Nikaido’s hand had felt heaviest on his skin. He only rests for a quarter hour before cleaning himself up and stumbling into the bedroom, a towel wrapped tight around his waist. After all, he knows he’ll keep coming back time and time again even if he still isn’t sure why he comes back.

Nikaido is still preparing for bed when Kirinji joins them, having stripped off the suit and tie for a plain silk robe done in such a dark blue that it looks almost black in the low lighting. Kirinji knows this robe all too well though, can pick out the subtle difference, having long since memorized the way it frames Nikaido’s body, the way it looks when the fabric is stretched thin in front of the light. It makes Kirinji suddenly, startlingly aware that while he had been given satisfaction, Nikaido has had nothing yet.

He will have to change that, won’t he?

“Your clothes are there.” Nikaido points to the dresser, and Kirinji’s eyes follow the movement to the dark red fabric pooled on the wood. “You’ve left them here, so I assume they will suffice.”

“Of course.” Kirinji moves toward the dresser, stopping when he sees the small selection on the nightstand. “Sir?”

Nikaido cocks their head, then sighs softly at him. “You need to eat and drink something before bed. I know it might be difficult at first, but it’s necessary if you want to keep these scenes with me up. I won’t have someone in my care who isn’t taken care of.”

Kirinji sits himself on the edge of the bed after he dresses, picking at the snacks and the water available to him, watching Nikaido move around the room in easy, confident motions. Like this, calmed down and relaxed, satisfied from the evening they spent together, Kirinji can more readily admit to himself that he finds Nikaido attractive. Always has ever since he first joined Iemura and set his sights on becoming the person Nikaido could trust the most.

He failed, in a way. He might have succeeded in another as well.

When Nikaido finally joins him on the bed, Kirinji twists around to look at them, reach for them, hands stopping just short of their body, knowing the limits. “Sir? I want to please you.”

“You already have.” Nikaido drapes an arm over their eyes, but Kirinji can see the edge of a smile, the way their teeth flash into view for just a moment on their lower lip. “Maybe I’ll humor this desire of yours. What exactly do you mean by pleasing me?”

The question makes Kirinji’s face hot and he swallows hard, fingers twitching. “I want to get you off. You didn’t look like you got anything from that. Not like I did.”

“This is why you’re the submissive. You don’t even fully understand what I get from our encounters, Kirinji.” Nikaido sighs and Kirinji stares at them; his brain only registers the fact they did not say  _ no _ and so he hasn’t been denied yet. “Mm, but I suppose you deserve a suitable reward for lasting as long as you did, and it is very like you to be so selfless.”

The joke, of course, is that Kirinji is always selfless when it comes to Nikaido, what they want and what he has to do to give it to them. When Nikaido shifts their thighs apart, Kirinji moves, reading the sign for what it is. His hands slip beneath the folds of the robe, spreading the fabric, hands sliding over Nikaido’s skin, up their thighs. A quiet noise slips from his mouth when he sees there is, in fact, nothing beneath the robe. Just soft bare skin all the way up.

“Be a good boy for me.” Nikaido’s voice is softer now, quiet. Their elbow is still across their eyes but their free hand comes to curl in Kirinji’s hair, pulling him closer, up the length of their legs.

Kirinji doesn’t have to be told twice.

He kisses his way up Nikaido’s thighs, dragging his cheek against the skin there, but he keeps his hands firmly on Nikaido’s hips. His mouth is okay, his tongue fine, but Nikaido made it clear that only on very rare and special occasions would his hands be allowed anywhere. Kirinji anchors his hands, fingers pressed into Nikaido’s skin. He runs out of thigh to kiss and turns his head, lips centimeters away from where Nikaido is wet and waiting for him.

The sheer amount of wetness here is enough to give him pause, the visible evidence of how aroused Nikaido is, folds slick and swollen. Maybe they had gotten something from touching him like that, treating him like that, fucking him until he could hardly feel the inside of his own head anymore. But it isn’t  _ enough _ and it isn’t  _ fair _ and Kirinji closes his eyes, presses his lips to Nikaido’s labia in a soft, open-mouthed kiss. The soft shudder that works through their body goads him on, encourages him to taste more.

“Kirinji.” Nikaido’s fingers tighten in his hair, almost tight enough to pull at the roots. “Don’t tease me. You should know better than to do that.”

The reminder sinks into his bones and Kirinji nods once to show he’s heard before he licks, tongue slowly tracing the edge of Nikaido’s labia with his tongue before pressing inside. They’re wetter here, and hotter, and Kirinji bites back a moan at how they taste, the salty earthy flavor on his tongue good enough to become an addiction if he isn’t careful. Though he doubts Nikaido would mind if Kirinji was on his knees for them forever.

He’s slow and methodical with his work, his lips and chin wet after mere minutes. He licks over Nikaido’s clit with slow and easy strokes of his tongue, feeling their hips shift, their thighs twitching beneath his arms. But they’re so quiet, soft little inhales and exhales that shake only a little, the occasional sigh as they spread their thighs wider for him. Kirinji accepts the invitation, licking a hot stripe up their slit before pressing his tongue inside of them. The muscle there opens easily enough for his tongue.

He fucks Nikaido with just his tongue, curling it inside of them, feeling their walls flutter and spasm against the gentle invasion. This close, pressed so deep into them, he’s struggling to breathe just a little, a slight burn in his lungs, but it doesn’t bother him. Kirinji has suffered so much more for their pleasure, been happy to do so.

When Nikaido’s thighs clamp tight around his head, though, he freezes.

“On your back.” Nikaido’s hand tightens in his hair,  _ yanks _ and Kirinji’s body jerks with the motion. “You heard me, pet.”

They switch places quickly, Kirinji happy to dive down onto the mattress, having barely enough time to get comfortable before Nikaido straddles his face, hands slipping into his hair to hold him in place. Kirinji is nothing but eager, catching them by the hips, helping them settle on top of him, the folds of their robe cocooning him in darkness. It’s almost stifling like this but Kirinji likes it, the darkness and quiet as he leans up to lick inside of them again.

Nikaido rides his face like this, rides his tongue, grinds down against his face, wet and slippery and hot. Kirinji moans freely now, letting them use him as they want, letting them use him for their pleasure if that’s what they want, what they need. He’d been given more than his due and he wants to return the favor, to have Nikaido come on his tongue.

When Nikaido finally makes a noise for him— a soft, whimpering moan— Kirinji takes the initiative himself, pulling their clit between his lips, sucking just hard enough. Nikaido spasms on him, pressing down hard against his face, a soft little cry leaving their lips, a sound that goes against the cool self-control they normally possess.

Kirinji wishes he could see their face like this, but the sound alone will be enough for now.

When Nikaido shifts off of him, Kirinji is the one responsible for making sure they’re cleaned up, retrieving the wet wipes in the bedside table kept there for situations just like this. He wipes his own face off but only after he’s carefully cleaned them up, aware the wipes are cool and Nikaido’s skin is flushed hot and overly sensitive. There is the occasional hiss and squirm of discomfort before Kirinji finishes, but it’s the thought that counts surely.

“Come here.” Nikaido holds their arms out and Kirinji holds his breath, not sure he’s quite reading this the right way. “Don’t look at me like that. I told you to come here, didn’t I?”

“Sorry, Sir.” Kirinji clambers up to him, lays down easy, lets Nikaido pull him into their arms.

This is rare for them, and Kirinji knows this better than anyone else. Nikaido is not a warm person, all sharp edges and cold down to their soul, able to handle the life of a yakuza better than most of the men Kirinji works with. But they’re soft for now, brought down from their usual attitude by the pleasure Kirinji freely gave them, or at least it seems that way. He doesn’t want to ask questions and risk losing this quiet, warm little moment.

Nikaido’s fingers comb through his hair and Kirinji presses his face against the side of their neck, breathing them in. “With a little more practice, you just might get good at this.”

Unsurprising, the barb in that comment. “If I have you to guide me, Sir, I’m sure I can.”

“I’ll be kind to you this evening and allow you to share my bed since you were so considerate of my pleasure this evening.” Nikaido tips his head up by the chin and Kirinji stares up into those dark eyes, wishing he could read past them to see what Nikaido is truly thinking. “Be good for me and turn off the lamp.”

Kirinji does as asked and when Nikaido pulls him back down, he dares to slip his arms around Nikaido in turn, pressing his body against theirs. With practice, he might get better at this dance Nikaido favors. If this is what will earn him the chance to be with them, to please them, and to serve them like he has wanted to since joining Iemura, then so be it. The restraint is well worth it when he thinks about them on top of him, using him for their own gain.

He’ll show them he’s cut out for it after all.


End file.
